


I Can't (Truthfully) Tell You I'm Alright

by myre



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myre/pseuds/myre
Summary: Some things are worth saying aloud. Or one time Ianto gets hurt and there's nothing Jack could've done.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	I Can't (Truthfully) Tell You I'm Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engagemythrusters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/gifts).



Ianto woke up to Jack’s faced pressed into his shoulder. He could feel Jack trembling and the gasping was unmistakable. He unwedged his free arm and reached over to stroke Jack’s hair, but at the first touch of his fingers, Jack jerked back, eyes wild and red-rimmed.

“Come here,” Ianto commanded softly, hand still held aloft where Jack’s head had been just moments before. He gazed steadily at Jack in the half-light, resisting the urge to trace the edges of the deep shadows cast across the planes of Jack’s face and in the valleys of his coat.

Jack just kept staring, his edges blurring in the darkness as he shook in front of Ianto.

Unluckily for Jack, Ianto wasn’t above guilt tripping him into allowing Ianto to comfort him. He stretched as far as he could before crooking his fingers and saying, “I can’t reach any further without jostling my side.”

* * *

Ianto brushed away Gwen’s concerned hands. She frowned. “You’re hurt.”

If breathing didn’t feel like being lanced in the side, Ianto would have laughed—the pain was turning into hysterical delirium.

“Not enough to stop.” Ianto struggled back to his feet, taking a moment to lean heavily against the alley wall, and tried not to think about the grime clinging to his person. “We need to keep going; we can’t let it get away”

Gwen looked ready to argue, so Ianto cut her off.

“You saw what it did to the SUV. You saw what it just tried to do to me. It’s heading towards a residential neighbourhood and is going to do this”—he gestured to his side, suit and shirt burned away to reveal mangled flesh—“and a lot worse to people who have no idea what is heading towards them.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, “Once we take care of this, I’ll go to the hospital.”

“Promise?” She knew how much Ianto hated hospitals.

Ianto nodded, meeting Gwen’s eyes. The sudden thought that she had eyes like sea glass bubbled up through the pain. She held his eyes for just a moment, though time seemed to expand as Ianto got lost in her liquid gaze, before returning his nod. Ianto watched as the worry on her face melted away into determination.

“Okay,” she said, with the voice of a Torchwood agent rather than a concerned friend. “I’m going to try to get ahead of it, thank goodness it’s not the fastest thing in the world. You come up from behind and we’ll flank it.”

Gwen took off at a run. Ianto heaved himself up from the wall and gave chase.

* * *

Zero casualties and only an entire street to Retcon. That was a win in Torchwood’s book (and Ianto’s diary for that matter).

What was not a win was Jack showing up and yelling at him about infections while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. Ianto wanted to hold him, to take Jack’s shaking hands in his own and tell him that it was alright, but the pain had an iron grip on his throat. He knew that if he tried to talk, he’d scream, and Jack didn’t need any more of those haunting his memories.

Instead, Ianto focused on breathing shallowly and on the gravel-covered pavement under his palms. The world seemed to grey around him, the late afternoon sunlight going ashen with the smell of burnt wool, the sky disappearing behind the roaring static of Jack’s voice (shouting orders, shouting questions, shouting a million anxieties and fears without putting them into words).

Ianto was relieved when the sirens cut Jack off even though they meant that he’d soon be awash in too bright lights and the smell of dead sterile air.

* * *

Jack yelled at the hospital too, but at least it was down the hall rather than in Ianto’s face. When he came into Ianto’s room, expression stormy, he was silent. He just stood there glaring in the doorway before abruptly turning around and leaving.

It was Gwen who came in a few moments later to tell him that she was taking him home.

* * *

“Want one?”

Ianto lifted his head and saw Rhys raising a bottle of beer. He dropped his head back down, seriously considering it, but eventually he sighed and shook his head. “Not supposed to drink while on the good stuff.”

Jack would probably Retcon Rhys if anything happened to him while Rhys was looking after him and Jack was unhappy enough about the situation as it was. He’d only been discharged from the hospital because they’d pulled the Torchwood card and Jack had only agreed because they couldn’t very well use the alien burn cream if he was being monitored by a civilian medical team.

“Your loss, mate.” Rhys settled into the armchair. Ianto turned his head, not that there was anything for him to be looking at. The only things he could make eye contact with were Rhys’ feet where they were settled on the coffee table.

The TV was on, but the voices were just a steady drone that turned to cotton in Ianto’s ears. The pain made it difficult to pick the words apart and the exhaustion meant that he wasn’t particularly interested in trying. Instead, he tried to think about the cleanup, counting the number of Retcon doses left at the Hub and hoping that Jack would remember that he needed to check Myspace and the usual forums for photos. Gwen would remember, but Jack would probably insist on her going home before she had the chance to do it. No matter—he’d just remind Jack when he got back. He just had to be awake.

Seconds later, Ianto was asleep.

* * *

Ianto watched Jack’s face crumple, the tension and the fight fleeing Jack’s body, the subtle shifts somehow more visible when outlined in shadow. His body sagged forward and Ianto braced himself for the moment that Jack’s forearms hit the couch, determined not to let the movement force him to give away his pain.

Ianto waited until Jack placed his head back on his shoulder before letting his eyes fall closed. He didn’t need sight to hear what Jack wasn’t saying ( _“I could’ve lost you. I can’t lose you.”_ ) just like he didn’t need ears to understand what Jack had been saying earlier, underneath the yelling ( _“You can’t leave me.”_ ).

He played with Jack’s hair, relearning the slide of the strands between his fingers even though there were few things he knew better, and listened to their breathing fall into sync.

He didn’t need his voice to tell Jack what he needed to hear, but Ianto said it aloud anyways, “I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Louise, based on the prompt [“You’re ill/hurt.” “Not enough to stop.”](https://searching-for-arcadia.tumblr.com/post/636811357126344704/send-me-a-number-and-characterspairs-and-ill) ❤


End file.
